


All the Lonely Nights of Your Life

by zelink12



Category: Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Flowers, How Do I Tag, M/M, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelink12/pseuds/zelink12
Summary: In which flowers pave the way to a budding relationship.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), georgenotfound/dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 4





	All the Lonely Nights of Your Life

"Dream!!" I hear a chastising voice arouse me from my slumber. 

"Mmm... yeah?" I barely grumble. 

"Morning, my good sir," that familiar voice came, buried with it an unreadable tone, "You fell asleep on our call."

"Wuh... Oh, George?" I rubbed my eyes and sat up, taking my phone with me as I went. 

"The beast awakens!!" the other mocks lightheartedly.

"Did my snoring keep you awake Gogy?" I grin, well aware that my voice would be a tell-tale sign that I was in a good mood. 

"Not at all, actually. It's already noon here and I just got up," I heard George stretch on the other end of the line.

"Want me to letcha go then? You could probably use a shower, I can smell you from Florida," I tease gently. In response, I get the audible representation of an eyeroll,

"Do I haaaaavvve to?" he pleads, almost convincingly.

"You woke me up at 7 am; go. Shower," I say, forcing a commanding tone on my best friend. Instead of a reply, I hear the sound of our 16 hour call being disconnected. I can't help but wheeze a bit, finding the defeat of the stubborn, almighty George more than hilarious. I decide it’s best to clamber out of bed and go brush my teeth. I make my way into the bathroom, shutting the door and turning to face the mirror.

_ ‘Huh?’  _ my face is pink, contrasting my dirty blonde tufts of hair, ‘ _ that’s odd…’ _ I shake my head and pull out my toothbrush from its spot on my sink.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Buh-ding**

I turn the heat off of the stove and pull my breakfast away from the hot-plate before pulling my phone out of my pocket. 

_ Attachment - 1 image _

It was from George. Subconsciously, my fingers fumble over each other to open snapchat. Almost instantly, I chuckle at the photo which has been sent. It was of George in a small yet busy cafe, making a duck face and holding up a peace sign. That was perfectly characteristic of him to send such a dorky image, but it warmed my heart like a hearth. My shoulders slumped a bit as I carried my plate of scrambled eggs and bacon to my little coffee table in front of the television. 

_ ‘Why would it make a difference? It’s just a snap from my best friend,’  _ I think while poking my eggs like a picky child,  _ ‘Just George… ’  _ I feel my face warm up a couple degrees, but ignore it like my life depended on it. 

Amazingly, it took no time at all to finish the dish I had created, slip my running shoes on, and slide out of my apartment door. Not much happened as I found my typical running route, besides for George occasionally making an appearance in my thoughts, forcing me to politely kick him out of my head. It had been like this for nearly a week now, and I simply couldn’t wrap my pea-sized brain around why my best friend wasn’t leaving my conscience. We’ve known one another for years now, and he’d never even seen my face, isn’t that just a normal internet friendship? 

_ ‘Nothing more, nothing less’  _ just as I swear to myself, I see something red laying in the brush alongside the side of the dirt road. Curiosity taking over, I get a bit closer, seeing an open book with a pressed rose inside. I pick it up with caution. There’s a note on the page opposing the flower with barely literate writing,

“Red roses symbolize love and deep… desire?” I read aloud, barely making out the final words. Those words sparked something in my mind, almost making a clicking noise as all the pieces fit together. 

_ ‘Do I…? Do I love George?’ _

  
  



End file.
